


Too Hot (Hot Damn)

by WasteTimeandType



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illya Whump, Partial Nudity, Pre-OT3, Sickness, heat exhaustion, if you want it to be, illya can't deal, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WasteTimeandType/pseuds/WasteTimeandType
Summary: 'Out of all the UNCLE missions, this was by far the worst. He’d been shot, stabbed, tortured with water and forced to run miles in a forest in the middle of Canada. All of that was preferable to this.   The damn heat.'  Illya suffers from heat exhaustion and Gaby and Napoleon take care of him. Kink Meme fill.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much the same as on the kink meme but I've edited it slightly. But I've kept the damn title.

Illya groaned intensely.

Out of all the UNCLE missions, this was by far the worst. He’d been shot, stabbed, tortured with water and forced to run miles in a forest in the middle of Canada. All of that was preferable to this.

_The damn heat._

Illya almost cursed his past self. During said Canada mission, he’d noted Napoleon’s and Gaby’s incredibly thick winter coats, which he stated bluntly compromised mobility. Illya had joked at the time that at least the thick padding would stop the bullets. Gaby still seemed to suffer from hypothermia however, and he’d had to hold her to keep her warm whilst awaiting pickup.

He’d take it back, though he’d never admit it aloud, as Napoleon and Gaby were now clearly functioning better than him. They looked hot, but they didn’t seem to be _suffering_ like he was. Napoleon was wearing his suit, and still with the jacket, even if it was linen. His own outfit was a bit more casual, just with a shirt and slacks, but he knew he felt worse. Gaby herself was wearing a dress; and he felt particularly envious, as that seemed to be the most comfortable out of all of them. Both Gaby and Napoleon looked so poised, as if this unbearable muggy heat was just another day on the field, and not the hell Illya found it to be. Illya was trying his best to keep up with them, when all he really wanted was a nice, cold shower. But he wouldn't let something as simple as _heat_ jeopardize the mission.

They were in India, investigating the owners of a chemical plant who they thought were selling the chemicals produced to make weapons for anyone with enough money. Napoleon and Gaby were posing as West German leftist dissidents who wished to attack the government, and Illya their rogue KGB financier. The owner, a Robert Bellman, had happily showed his prospective buyers some stockpiles of various chemicals. Well, at least it was pretty obvious now that they were doing the business they had planned.

Now they were strolling through the gardens, Napoleon doing most of the talking, which he was incredibly thankful for. Napoleon had smirked at Illya when Illya had wiped the sweat off his brow. He had wanted to wipe the smirk off that face so much, but he’d held his rage down. Honestly, he was too _hot_ to fight.

They’d shaken Mr Bellman’s hand, and agreed to a second meeting tomorrow to seal the deal. Illya felt annoyed as he realise they were not going straight back to the hotel, forgoing a car as they attempted to keep their other cover Mr Bellman believed them to be under as tourists, leisurely taking in the sights. As the sun beat down, Illya could feel the sweat increase, and he knew that he probably looked horrendous, but he didn’t complain, though he did briefly think of asking to go straight to the hotel when black spots entered his field of vision. He looked for any street vendors selling water, but he couldn't see any in his immediate vicinity. Illya decided to keep quiet, and endure this heat in silence. If there was one thing he hated, it was fuss and _concern_ , so he powered through the dizziness he was feeling. A glass of water in the hotel and ten minutes to cool off and he’d be _fine_.

Finally they entered the lobby of the hotel they were staying at, and it was notably cooler, but still too warm. “Goodness, isn’t it hot.” Napoleon said as he started to loosen the tie on the way to their rooms. Illya felt a _little_  comfort that at least there was some acknowledgment of the dire heat, other than his own mind, and he wasn’t just losing it because anything over 25 degrees had been considered abnormal in Russia. Really, what he wouldn’t to be out of this hell-hole and back enjoying the winter snow in Moscow. Cold, yes, but manageable. “Shall we order up some champagne in ice?” He asked Gaby, who nodded as they went into their room. “Come by if you want, Nikolai” Napoleon said to Illya, using his cover name, and he nodded as Illya went to his separate room opposite them.

Illya could barely walk straight as he entered his hotel room. Every step to his own bathroom seemed to take forever, and the environment around him was not orientating itself right, constantly rotating, and the light of the room seemed to make his eyes strain. Eventually he succeeded in his mission to reach the bathroom, and started to fumble with the taps. Perhaps because the adrenaline had faded, as despite the hotel being significantly cooler, the dark spots had returned in his vision. He tried to drink the water, and some slid down his parched throat, offering immediate relief, but the black spots continued to _spread_ \--

He then found himself on the floor, his head swimming as he blinked his tired eyes open. At least the tiles felt cool, and it was nice relief from the heat. He laid there for a few minutes, before deciding to heave himself up. His head hurt, from a headache and a bump from where he’d hit the floor, which at least it wasn’t bleeding.

But what Illya noted was that he felt exhausted, and didn’t have the energy to move from the kneeling position he’d managed to force himself into. He felt so thirsty, and so tired, and his head hurt and he could tell he was choking back bile. He slumped back down to the floor, craving the comfort of the cool tiles on his head again. At least it was something.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, eyes closed and but he then groaned as he felt warm hands clasp around his head. They were small but rough, which indicated Gaby’s hands.

“Illya? Are you okay? Has he been... poisoned?” she asked desperately, and Illya wanted to assure her, but the bile was curling in his stomach and he wished desperately to keep it down.

He felt a larger hand press against his forehead. “No, he’s suffering from heat exhaustion. Let’s take his clothes off.” Napoleon’s voice rang throughout the air, and soon enough hands were on his shirt and trousers, removing them. Illya felt a bit ridiculous being stripped like this, but he didn’t feel like he had the capacity to voice his concerns, let alone physically resist. He did feel comfortably cooler after they were gone.

He felt his stomach lurch again, and he convulsed slightly, and he felt himself being pushed onto his side, and vomit soon spewed from his lips. It tasted of bile and he shuddered as he emptied his stomach, trying to make sure he kept himself up and not fall into the sick. After he was finished coughing, he was rolled back onto his back, and he felt someone wipe at his mouth.

He soon felt cool towels being placed upon his body, and he sighed greatly at the one pressed onto his forehead. He also felt water being tipped down his throat, which pleased him greatly, but he could hear himself keen slightly at the water being taken away from him.

“Sorry, Peril, you gotta take it slow with the water. Sips and nothing more for now.” he heard Napoleon state.

He groaned. He felt Gaby maneuver another compress to his head. “Do you think we should ring a doctor?” she asked, her voice full of worry.

Illya groaned, trying to voice his immense disapproval. Napoleon laughed slightly. “I don’t think Peril here would like us much for that. I think he’s going to be fine, he already feels less clammy.” he said, as Napoleon touched his chest. “If he vomits again, maybe we'all think about it.” He said, and Napoleon brought the water back to his lips to allow him to have a sip. “Let’s move him to the bed, I’m not sure crouching in a bathroom is how I want to spend the afternoon.” Illya wanted to protest that he liked the cool bathroom, but he didn’t really have the energy to voice his frustration.

Illya felt himself being lifted, Napoleon holding him under the arms and Gaby taking his feet. “Goodness Peril, you’re heavy.” he heard Napoleon quip as they laid him on the mattress.

“At least he’s pretty docile like this. Could you imagine giving a lift to the fully conscious Illya.” Gaby said, and he could imagine her smirking as Napoleon brought more water to his lips.

This was _humiliating_.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, feeling the dizziness fade from the constant changings of the towels and the sips of water. The nausea went, and the lights didn’t seem so harsh any more. He even closed his eyes, and dozed off for a bit.

When he woke up, he felt considerably better, even if he was noticed the air was still so damn hot. He eventually shifted himself up, and took the towels off of himself. He took the glass of water by his side and drank the water greedily.

“Ah good, peril. You’re alert, finally.” he hear the american say, and he looked over at him.

Illya quickly recoiled at the sight of his fellow agent in the chair beside him, flipping through some magazine.. “Why are you only in your boxers?” he asked incredulously at the sigh of the insert dressed American.

“Well, you were at least on to something, fainting. It is incredibly warm.”

“But why are you in your _underwear_.”

“The same reason as you, I basically just explained myself.” Napoleon stated.

Illya rolled his eyes, but then felt himself flush at his own state. He was laying in his underwear, and the other two had to _strip_ him.

“Don’t get too red, you’ll faint again.” Napoleon stated, a wide smirk on his face. Illya shot him the dirtiest look, which only made Napoleon grin even further.

They heard a knock, but it was more of a formality as Gaby soon opened the door. She was dressed in a loose fitting robe, and smiled. “Ah, you’re awake” she said cheerily. She placed an apple onto the counter, and started to chop it with a knife, before coming to sit by him, and giving him the apple on a plate. “I’m sure you can manage.” she said, placing the plate on his lap.

Then Gaby took off her robe.

She was wearing her underwear, but Illya immediately flushed and turned away, but then could only see Napoleon’s grinning face. He really wanted to punch the american right now, but he wanted to do that a lot. “Please Gaby, cover yourself. It isn’t proper.”

“It’s hot, and if you boys are doing it then I can too. It’s only us.”

“You are a _lady_ ” he protested, feeling the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he tried to look at her _face_ , and only her _face_.

“See, I’ve never been good at following these rules you describe.”

His blush stayed, and Illya took the apple anyway, but tried to smile awkwardly as he accepted her flesh in his line of sight. “It’s fine. I do not need you to baby me anymore.”

“Well, we wouldn’t have to do this if you had simply told us you needed some relief. We get it, you’re not used to this sort of heat.” Gaby stated. He wanted to reply that neither was Gaby, really, but she always seemed to fit into the situations better; blend in easier, whatever the situation, she was made for exoticism. Illya could act different when needed, but he was best in the European settings. In fact, he’d over ever travelled further south than Italy with UNCLE. . “We would’ve gotten you some water.” she said, finally. “I think you should thank the fact that our telephone for room service was not connected, so Napoleon had decided to go down to the lobby. He noticed you’d left your door open.”

The door. He’d left his _door_ open. He’d left himself be so vulnerable to _anything_ and _anyone_. If someone had decided to, they could’ve easily killed him - and Illya’s life would be known throughout the KGB, as the one who personally one-upped the family shame by dying of _heat exhaustion_. The thought was so ridiculous that he could feel his hand start to shake and tap, as he felt his heart-rate quicken.

“You were sick, Illya. It doesn’t matter.” Gaby said, taking his hands into hers.

“It does. I almost compromised-”

Napoleon shook his own head, and spoke up to cut him off. “You didn’t do anything of the sort. Nothing’s happened. Heat exhaustion doesn’t exactly break cover if you’re playing a Russian.” Napoleon said, stating it with snark as a sure fact and was not going to be argued with because Napoleon knew he was right. Illya just nodded, eventually, and let it go, calming himself down. He eventually ate the apple that Gaby had given him, the sweetness offering a nicer taste to his mouth which had tasted of dried spit and vomit.

“And Peril, if you do feel sick again, in any sort, please tell us.” Napoleon stated again. “I should’ve noticed earlier. I’d rather not have you die on a mission.” Napoleon had said the last sentence rather flippantly, as if trying to cover up any sincerity.

Illya nodded again, feeling as if he couldn’t win the argument, and simply began to eat another apple slice as silence followed. They’d already seen him at his worst, today, so there was no hiding anymore. Previously his injuries and weaknesses had been for the mission, and not something he’d done to himself. Napoleon himself had admitted, in a strange way, that he was concerned about him, and Gaby had made it all to obvious. He felt a flicker of warmth that the other two did clearly care about him, and perhaps in a capacity other than a simple teammate. It was odd and new to Illya. He had KGB agents he'd been friendly with, would sometimes have a drink with at base, but ultimately their professionalism caused them to purposefully be distant. UNCLE was not like that. Waverly even _encouraged_ them to be friends, for some reason, and gave them 'team building time' which usually meant a trip to the beach, to Illya's eternal chagrin. Illya found it overwhelming in a way, if he was honest with himself.

Gaby mercifully decided to change the subject to at least end the silence. “Napoleon, when did you learn how to deal with heat exhaustion?”

Napoleon smiled. “Well, I’ve been in many hot countries. You pick up a few things. I think the first time it was in Morocco, and I was scouting this one art collector who may not have had the best security. Anyway, there was this charming lady at this party at the collector’s house, and it was a costume party for the socialites, so she was dressed in victorian gear, which included a corset. We went for a walk through the gardens, and a corset in that heat isn’t a good idea, so she fainted, and I called a doctor. I saw how she was treated, and the commotion also allowed me to stake out the private art collection. She also came back to my room to thank me.”

Illya rolled his eyes. “She ‘thanked’ you for calling a doctor? Anyone would do that.”

“Ah, but can anyone call the doctor as well as I did?” Napoleon laughed.

Gaby laughed, and Illya smiled briefly. Nice to know that the information was acquired in a typical Napoleon way.

Napoleon stood up. “Now, why don’t we get dressed into some actual clothes, let’s think _comfortable_ this time, and head off to the restaurant down below. I’m starving.”

Gaby hummed in agreement, and though Illya knew he could easily sleep more, he figured that eating would be best to make him feel better, and Napoleon and Gaby would pester him until he did.

Napoleon and Gaby stood up to head to their rooms, lazily covering themselves for the short trip across the hall.

Napoleon turned to look at Illya near the door “Oh, and peril, if you ever bring up my need for thicker clothes in the cold again, I won’t hesitate to blackmail you with this. You _fainting_ , and everything.”

Napoleon had ducked out of the door before the pillow could hit him in the face, but Illya couldn’t help but smile to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The original OP asked for heat stroke but I changed it to heat exhaustion because heat stroke is more of a medical emergency and I wanted the characters to realistically deal with it.
> 
> I hope you liked and thanks for reading!


End file.
